


A Few Minor Adjustments

by stratumgermanitivum



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Amputation, Amputation Kink, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 22:40:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19386001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stratumgermanitivum/pseuds/stratumgermanitivum
Summary: Hannibal woke to a world that felt slightly off. He was still fuzzy, though the IV no longer lingered by the bed. He was curved slightly into a dip in the mattress; Will lay beside him, a brighter smile on his face than Hannibal had ever seen before.“I’ve missed you,” Will said, tucking a lock of hair behind Hannibal’s ears. When had his hair gotten so overgrown? Hannibal blinked, trying to focus. He must have been heavily dosed; even awake, he could not move his limbs. “There’s so much I’ve wanted to talk to you about,” Will continued, “Did you know I wanted you? From the minute I saw you, all prim and put together, you made me want to take you apart.”





	A Few Minor Adjustments

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FlyingRotten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyingRotten/gifts).



> For a prompt that asked for Secret Serial Killer Will removing Hannibal's limbs and keeping him as a 'sex thing.' This is the darkest thing I've ever written, and it's possible it's not tagged enough. Please let me know if there's a warning I've missed. 
> 
> Obviously, this is not representative of any real life people and not a healthy relationship to use as a model. Don't try this at home.

 

Hannibal’s leg itched.

No, that wasn’t right. His legs didn’t itch anymore. He knew that, knew that logically, but in the hazy moments between sleep and waking, it was impossible to ignore the twitch of a phantom limb.

Waking. But what had woken him? He squirmed a bit on the bed, attempting to roll onto his back. A body came to rest over his, pressing him firmly into the mattress.

“Shhh, babydoll,” Will crooned in his ear, his own private joke. Hannibal felt a thrum of excitement. Will had been gone all day. He’d left the tablet for Hannibal, but the effort of tapping at it with his nose was just too much to keep him entertained for long, especially without Will there to coo praise and humiliation at him. Hannibal had spent most of the day napping. He spent most of every day napping, if Will was unavailable to give him the attention he craved.

 _“You wanted my attention_ ,” Will had told him, “ _Now that’s all you have.”_

And it was, really. Hannibal’s life had always been a bit duller whenever Will wasn’t around, but now it was excruciating.

“Easy now,” Will told him, removing the plug he’d stretched Hannibal with that morning. It was not meant for long term use, and Hannibal had, of course, been unable to adjust it. He was sore, the lube dried out. Will was kind enough to apply some fresh to his cock before he pressed inside.

Being fucked facedown like this was always a little bit terrifying, now. It could be hard for Hannibal to prop himself up if he needed more space to breathe, especially with Will bearing down on his back, hands on Hannibal’s hips, the full weight of his huge body covering Hannibal’s small one.

Will had never seemed so very large, before.

Each long, deep thrust rubbed Hannibal’s cock against the bedsheets. He choked on a moan, and Will pressed a smile into his throat.

“That’s it,” Will hissed, “Tell me how much you love it, and I’ll let you have my hand today.”

“I love it,” Hannibal gasped out immediately. He could not press back into the thrusts, not properly, but he squirmed a bit, trying to roll his hips in time with Will’s. “I love it so much, I love _you_ , please, Will…”

He’d been a proud man, once. But now his world had narrowed. What was the point of pride, when all he ever had to worry about was what pleased Will? And oh, how he wanted to please Will.

“There you go.” Will adjusted Hannibal’s hips, lifting the lower half of his torso up off the bed and efficiently removing any range of motion Hannibal had left. But it was worth it, when his hand wrapped around Hannibal’s straining cock. “There you go, Hannibal, go ahead. You’ve been good today.”

Not every day was a good day. Some days were harder, sadder. Some days Hannibal longed for things he was no longer permitted to have. But today, today he only longed for Will. As it should be. As it always should have been.

Hannibal moaned and spilled over Will’s hand.

_____

After the fall, Will recovered faster than Hannibal. Hannibal’s leg had been all but shattered, and his gunshot wound had gone red with infection before the week was out. Will, on the other hand, was relatively unscathed, and cheerful about it.

He tended to Hannibal with a smile, changing his bandages, offering him soup and medicine. They recovered in a bungalow in France. Hannibal had no memory of their arrival.

Hannibal’s gunshot wound healed. His leg showed no improvement. Will did not seem nearly as bothered by it as Hannibal was.

“What do you think, doc?” Will mused one morning, carefully helping Hannibal through the exercises meant to stave off bed sores.

“We may need to involve outside help,” Hannibal admitted, “It may recover surgery that I cannot manage myself.”

“We could do that,” Will agreed, fluffing Hannibal’s pillows for him and then turning to the medicine bag. “Or I could take care of it.”

“You?” Hannibal frowned. Will bustled around in the bag. Hannibal didn’t hear the tell-tale rattle of his pill bottles.

“I needed to wait for your gunshot wound to heal,” Will told him, “Needed you in the best shape I could get you in. You know, I’ve wanted to do this for _ages_ , but I always had my life to think about.”

The problem was that Hannibal _trusted_ Will, even with all the warning signs blaring at him. They had been through too much together. When Will turned with the needle in his hands, Hannibal’s reactions were too delayed. In the seconds he wasted on shock and betrayal, Will got a hand on Hannibal’s throat and slid the needle into his veins.

“But I have no reason to hold back, now,” Will whispered, as Hannibal’s world went fuzzy.

_____

_Hannibal wakes in pain, a constant ache in his limbs. Will shushes him._

_“Don’t worry, this will make it better.”_

_The sharp chill of a new IV in his veins._

_He wakes. His nose itches, but he can’t seem to scratch it, and it makes him whine._

_But Will is there, his hand a cool balm on Hannibal’s fevered skin, and he shushes and soothes until Hannibal slips under again._

_Hannibal wakes and everything is fuzzy, but Will spoons broth into his mouth, and this could be okay._

_Hannibal wakes and aches and sleeps and-_

_Hannibal wakes-_

_____

Hannibal woke to a world that felt slightly off. He was still fuzzy, though the IV no longer lingered by the bed. He was curved slightly into a dip in the mattress; Will lay beside him, a brighter smile on his face than Hannibal had ever seen before.

“I’ve missed you,” Will said, tucking a lock of hair behind Hannibal’s ears. When had his hair gotten so overgrown? Hannibal blinked, trying to focus. He must have been heavily dosed; even awake, he could not move his limbs. “There’s so much I’ve wanted to talk to you about,” Will continued, “Did you know I wanted you? From the minute I saw you, all prim and put together, you made me want to take you apart.”

There was a confused warmth in Hannibal’s chest. When Will leaned in to kiss him, he responded sloppily, but with more fervor than he thought he’d be able to muster while sedated. “I-“ He started, when Will pulled back, but Will hushed him.

“No no, doctor,” Will said in a teasing voice, “It’s my turn to talk. I’ve waited so long to be able to tell someone. So many years of acting, but I think ‘Doctor Lecter’s shiny new toy’ was both my favorite and my most hated.”

Hannibal blinked, again. It seemed to be all he could do. His nose itched. He wanted to scratch it. He didn’t seem able to. His eyes stayed locked on Will’s, almost entranced by him, by his toothy grin. His mind felt so hazy.

“I think I was better at it than you,” Will said, “after all, they only ever found _two_ of my bodies, and I left them Randall Tier on purpose. Well, three by now, although the Dragon was hardly my kill alone.”

“I don’t understand,” Hannibal said. His tongue was thick in his mouth. He was suddenly thirstier than he’d ever been in his life. “I-“

But there were no more words. _Could be_ no more words. Because Hannibal had finally figured out why he couldn’t move his limbs.

He didn’t have any.

An icy bubble of panic bubbled up in Hannibal’s chest. His arms, his legs, each ended after a few scant inches of flesh, heavily bandaged stumps left behind. His hands, _where were his hands_? The left leg, he could almost understand. If Will had not been willing to capture and kill a doctor… Even if he had, it might have needed amputated. But the rest. Oh god, his _hands_.

“Shh…” Will’s hand landed heavily on his chest. His heaving chest. Hannibal was hyperventilating, his body tight with panic. “I don’t want to have to sedate you again, Hannibal. Not after weeks without your company. You weren’t much of a conversation partner, delirious with pain or with morphine.”

“You… You can’t…” But that was useless, too. Obviously, Will could. Will _had_. There were tears in his eyes. Hannibal couldn’t wipe them away.

Will could, though, and did, with a calloused but gentle thumb. “There’s no undoing this,” He cooed, in a voice Hannibal had heard him use for his mongrels, “No going back. All you can do is adjust. And I know you can, Hannibal, I’ve seen you adjust to so many terrible things. Just relax. Listen to me. That’s all there is left for you, you know. Me. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“No,” Hannibal moaned. Will kissed him around it, licked past his parted lips and into his mouth. Devastated, horrified, Hannibal wanted to bite. Defenseless as he was, he didn’t dare.

Will pulled back, licking his lips with a frown. “You taste disgusting,” he decided, “but we can fix that later. I’d rather talk, right now. Ask the question, Hannibal, I know you want to.”

The question was obvious, but Will was right. There was nothing Hannibal wanted more right now, than to know the answer. “ _Why_ , Will?” His voice cracked, a sob threatening to break free from his chest.

Will grinned. “In a bayou in Louisiana,” he said, “I left my first victim. I was fifteen. It was a clumsy kill, really, but _such_ a rush. I’d never felt anything like it before. Or since, really. You never forget your first time.” He traced a nail down Hannibal’s chest, a single tally mark.

“At the bottom of a few lakes in Mississippi, you’ll find three more bodies. Pieces of them, anyway. We stayed there for a long time. Long enough for me to get good at what I did.” Three more tallies joined the first.

“You killed before Hobbs,” Hannibal whispered. And he had never noticed. Never even suspected. Will had seemed… Frail, almost, especially in the beginning. A teacup waiting to be shattered. Hannibal had wanted to mold him into a darkness he saw hidden. “You let me see fragments of you, pieces of a darkness I would want to train.”

“People see what they want to see,” Will said with a shrug, “you wanted to see a protégé. I let you. The encephalitis was a mistake, though. Couldn’t see _that_ coming.” He rolled his eyes, flicking at one of Hannibal’s nipples, hard enough to make him flinch. “So, Hobbs.” A strike across the previous four tallies. “But there were others. Before and after.” Will set his nails to Hannibal’s shoulder and dragged them down, drawing four jagged red lines all the way to his hip. Hannibal shook his head, but could not squirm away. There was not enough muscle left to drag himself, and the little that remained ached, sore from the surgeries.

“That doesn’t tell me why,” Hannibal whispered. Will cupped his chin, pressing kisses to Hannibal’s cheeks, the corners of his mouth.

“Because you were mine,” Will told him. “From the very first minute I saw you, in Jack Crawford’s office, I wanted to see you undone. Those fancy suits and ties. I wanted to strip you out of your skin and see what was underneath.” His fingers traced ticklish patterns over the thrum of Hannibal’s heart. Hannibal’s brain sent signals telling his limbs to swat Will away. There was nothing left to receive the signals, nothing left to _move_ , he was choking.

“When you let my brain burn and had me locked away,” Will turned Hannibal’s face towards his, cupping his jaw with a tight grip, “That’s when I took your legs. In my fantasies, I left you conscious for it. I listened to you scream and plea and beg. I saw you fall apart and lose that mask you wear. Your cool confidence.”

Hannibal would not have begged, he’s sure he wouldn’t have. His pride had mattered so much to him. Will kissed his cheek as if he could have read his thoughts.

“You would have held out,” Will assured him, “which is why my next fantasies had you unconscious, waking to see the damage I had wrought upon your body.”

“A fantasy you fulfilled.”

“Not quite,” Will said with a wry smile. He kissed Hannibal’s lips again. Briefly, but tellingly. This affection had not been a part of the fantasy as had been designed originally. “When you sliced into Abigail,” Will said, continuing his story with a sudden, darkened expression, “I took your arms. I took those strong hands and lovely fingers. They had their uses, I’m sure, but none as important as making sure you knew who had taken them from you.”

Will peeled back the bandages where Hannibal’s left arm had once been. It was, as far as Hannibal could tell, entirely healed. Certainly, it didn’t hold the residual soreness of his legs. No doubt Will had taken him apart in steps, and the left arm had been the first to go. The scar tissue held Hannibal’s horrified gaze, even as Will leaned in and pressed a kiss to the stump, licking playfully over the scars. Hannibal’s body trembled.

“When you got yourself locked up,” Will hissed, “Ensured I could not forget you, gave up the reprieve I had been generous enough to grant you, _that_ is when I decided not to kill you after. It’s when I realized.” His hands went to Hannibal’s hips, digging in painfully as he dragged Hannibal down the bed, tucked beneath the weight of Will’s body, his bright-eyed gaze.

“You may be surprised to find that your attack on my new family didn’t lose you anything.” As Will spoke, he trailed kisses down the arch of Hannibal’s throat, sharp little nips of his teeth, just hard enough to sting. “Your tongue, perhaps, so you could stop twisting people to your whims. But you see, by that point, I’d already lost myself to you.” Will chuckled, a dark, humorless noise. “Isn’t it nice to know that you still have such power over me? That we are so thoroughly intertwined?”

He reached between them to the apex of Hannibal’s thighs, and what he found drew a shuddering gasp from Hannibal’s lips.

“Don’t worry,” Will murmured against Hannibal’s jaw, stroking his fingertips gently over Hannibal’s cock, mostly soft but beginning to strain towards Will’s attentions, filling with blood from his words alone, “I already knew. When I looked at you covered in the Dragon’s blood, _that’s_ when I was certain. You love me, Hannibal. You love my violence and my mercy, and now you’ll have plenty of both.”

The truly horrifying thing was that Will wasn’t wrong. Hannibal had ached for him. Hannibal still ached for him, even now, even with what Will had done to him.

But right now, all Hannibal wanted was to be left alone to grieve. “Stop,” He said, shaking his head. Will laughed, much more genuine in his glee. His hand slowed, teasing at the reddened head of Hannibal’s cock.

“It’s not like that, between us,” Will told him, “You and I, we don’t have boundaries. We dig into each other with claws and fangs. Knives,” He added, twisting his grip at the head, drawing a low moan from Hannibal.

“N-no,” Hannibal repeated, breathless with the stimulation. He couldn’t push or kick at Will, he squirmed, jerking his hips every time Will tried to establish a rhythm. Will frowned, nipping at Hannibal’s shoulder, a warning.

“I can still take your teeth, Hannibal, and then you’ll _really_ be nothing but mine. At least this way, you can still consume what you like. I’m willing to cook for you, the way you like it best. As long as you behave yourself.”

“ _Behave_ myself?” Hannibal spat the words out like they were something filthy, vile. He jerked his body as hard as he could, rolling onto his stomach and out of Will’s grasp.

Once on his stomach, however, there was nowhere else to go. One of his legs still ached if he put pressure on the stump, and suddenly the edge of the king-sized bed seemed miles and miles away. Behind him, Will laughed again, and then flattened his entire body to Hannibal’s back.

“You make it easy for me,” He breathed against Hannibal’s ear, “As I made it easy for you. I walked right up to you to have my insides carved out of me, and you, you expose yourself to my whims with every motion you make.” He reached above Hannibal’s head to the nightstand, to a tube he’d left there, within reach.

“No!” Hannibal said again. Will sank his teeth into Hannibal’s shoulder, and his fingers into Hannibal’s body, spreading him wide and slick.

“Yes,” Will growled, fucking Hannibal on his fingers, harsh little jabs of pressure that stung and wore away Hannibal’s control. “Yes. Now, and tomorrow, and every night after. You and I, conjoined, just like you wanted. I’ll take you whenever I want. Whenever you need, and you _will_ need it, Hannibal. My razor-sharp affection, my _gift_ to you.”

The fingers fled, leaving Hannibal panting into the bedsheets. Will wrapped an arm around Hannibal’s waist, propping him up and easing himself in, in, until there was no place where he did not touch Hannibal, inside and out.

“There will be nights when you beg me for it.” Will rolled his hips, grinding hard against the spot inside Hannibal that made him writhe. “Nights when you crave it, when all you can think about is having me inside you, relieving the ache, and the _boredom_. Satiating your loneliness with love and lust and conversation.”

Hannibal sobbed, his face damp from tears that would not hold back any longer. Will cupped his jaw, tilting his head back to lap them up.

“You’re mine,” Will whispered between thrusts, “And I’m yours. And if you’re very, _very_ good, it can be good for you, too.”

He fucked Hannibal into the sheets, forcing his body down against the mattress. Hannibal’s cock leaked in steady, traitorous pulses. His mind was filled with the fantasies he’d had of this, of Will. Of love and conversation in a warm bed. He wanted, oh, how Hannibal _wanted_.

“So good for you,” Will groaned, sliding a hand between Hannibal and the sheets. Hannibal hid his moans in the pillow, the sounds Will wrong from him with his hand and his cock, trapping Hannibal between two points of pleasure, no way out.

Will’s hips jerked, filling Hannibal in steady pulses. Hannibal had always preferred condoms, for their neatness and quick clean up, but that thought stuttered and died as Will dragged an orgasm from him. Hannibal’s body twitched, shaking in the aftermath. He was soaked through, trapped in his own mess, Will’s leaking down his thighs. Will sighed and pressed kisses to Hannibal’s shoulders.

“You’ll see,” Will murmured, “It’s going to be beautiful.”

_____

There were bad days. There were days when Will got busy, when he seemed to forget Hannibal entirely. Days when Hannibal needed to be punished for some offense. Days when the tablet battery ran dead and Hannibal stared up at the ceiling for hours and hours, until Will came to carry him to the kitchen, the bathroom, running through their nightly routine. Starved for affection, Hannibal would beg. Will had been right about that. He begged for Will’s attention, something to sate the quiet emptiness of his own mind. Left stranded on the cold kitchen floor while Will heated up leftovers, he’d beg for anything Will liked. He’s begged for Will to speak to him, to fuck him. He’s begged to suck Will’s cock and even begged for the simple, mindless pleasure of watching Will work, whether he be tying a fishing lure or a body, it was all the same to Hannibal, now.

And at night, in their bed, Will would fuck him. Dig into Hannibal’s body until Hannibal was screaming, twisting beneath him, an ugly, wild thing, desperate for Will. If Hannibal was lucky, Will would fuck him face down and he’d have something to rut against. If Hannibal was unlucky, Will would take his pleasure from Hannibal’s body and then turn away, turn his back on Hannibal’s needs and wants and cries.

But the good days. The _best_ days.

Will would wake Hannibal with soft kisses, gentle touches. If he was feeling particularly eager, he’d trail his way down Hannibal’s chest, wrapping his lips around the pulse of his morning wood. He’d lock eyes with Hannibal as he sucked, palming himself to the sight of Hannibal squirming in place, held so easily just by Will’s lips and tongue. He’d share a taste with Hannibal, and swallow the rest, carrying him to the shower to clean them both of their release.

They would talk, curled up on the couch, Hannibal’s head in Will’s lap. Will would drape him in a blanket; Hannibal seemed to run cold, these days. Philosophy and art. Murder. Will would tell Hannibal of what treats he had in store, what mischief he’d been up to while Hannibal slept.

(If Hannibal was really, _incredibly_ lucky – and he almost never was – Will would take him down to the basement and let him watch. They tried not to overdo it; the sight of Hannibal always seemed to frighten the meat, drawing a sour taste through it.)

Will would cook dinner under Hannibal’s strict guidance, bending to Hannibal’s chair with a spoon to taste, or better yet, a sauce painted over the bow of his lips, something sweet and flavorful for Hannibal to lick at.

Hannibal dined in Will’s lap, most days, hand fed from Will’s own plate until his mind was pleasantly hazy with how _easy_ it all was.

And at night, they would come together, bodies working towards satisfaction. Will buried deep inside Hannibal, where he belonged, where he had always been. Hannibal would lay back, for that was all he _could_ do, all Will _wanted_ of him. Just lay back and enjoy the way Will enjoyed him.

There were more good days than bad, as time went on. Until the bad days were a rare nightmare in the midst of sweet dreams. Endlessly wrapped in Will, conjoined.

That was all Hannibal needed, anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> And they lived happily ever after. No really, they did. Hannibal is very happy.
> 
> Mostly.


End file.
